You Make Me Want to Lose Control
by celeste9
Summary: Lester has had a bad day and Becker is determined to make up for it. Lester/Becker


_****_A/N: Technically part of my L/B Promise 'verse, but this is basically smut so it doesn't matter much if you haven't read any of the other stories. Warning for spanking and (brief) orgasm denial. I wrote this a couple months ago and have been having trouble actually finishing any of the less smutty stories, so figured I'd post this!

_**You Make Me Want to Lose Control**_

Although James wouldn't go so far as to say they had easy days at the ARC, some days were easier than others. Today had not been one of those days.

They had lost a civilian that morning, a girl the same age as his daughter Julia. With the anomalies now public knowledge, civilian casualties were even harder to stomach because it was nearly impossible to avoid some sort of media reaction. And while James certainly knew better than to identify with the victims and their families, he was having a hard time not imagining what that girl's father must be going through.

He'd then had to endure an excruciating budget review that had actually made him miss Philip Burton, followed by a phone call from his ex-wife. It had begun as a conversation about their son Henry getting into trouble at school but had devolved into an argument that James had no desire to recall the particulars of. Suffice it to say it hadn't been a new disagreement.

When Becker stepped into his office at the end of the day, James was simply not in the mood. He put his fingers to his temples and rubbed. "Go home, Becker. It's late, it's been a long, terrible day, and I have work to do." _And I know you're as upset about that girl as I am._

But Becker didn't leave, because he never did. He approached the desk silently, coming around the back and stopping behind James' chair. Setting his hands upon James' shoulders, Becker started to rub firmly. "It's because you've had a long, terrible day that I'm not going home without you."

James swallowed a groan. Becker really had wonderfully talented hands. "Have you considered that I might actually want some time to myself?"

Ignoring that completely, Becker instead asked, "Is there anything you have to do that won't keep until tomorrow? Be honest."

After thinking it over, James answered reluctantly, "No." He barely stopped himself from protesting as Becker's hands stilled and then moved away.

Becker spun James' chair around and bent forward and down, leaning into James' space. "Good. Now you're going to stop thinking and listen to me. We are both going home and you are going to trust me to know what you need. All right?"

And James was not aroused in the slightest by Becker's tone or the look on his face. Definitely not. "All right."

* * *

Inside their flat, James set down his keys and briefcase and bent to greet Sid and Nancy, who had come to welcome him and Becker home just as a dog would. Becker gave them only the most cursory of pats before directing his attention to James.

"Take off your shoes and go into the bedroom."

James frowned. "I don't take orders from you."

And suddenly James found himself with his back to the wall and Becker's hands crushed in his suit jacket, Becker pressing full-length up against him. "You are going to do exactly as I say, James."

All the blood seemed to be fleeing James' brain in a bid southwards. _He's being presumptuous and you're angry,_ he told himself but somehow he was nodding. Becker released him and James... James did exactly what he was told. He took off his shoes and he walked into the bedroom.

"Take off your clothes," Becker commanded and fuck, it was embarrassing how much James loved the authoritative note in his voice. He wasn't supposed to be the one getting off on surrendering control.

His hands went to his tie and he loosened the knot, watching Becker watch him.

Becker moved closer to him, close enough that James could smell him, like soap and gun oil, and James knew how Becker had spent his afternoon. They all had their comforts. "Faster," Becker said quietly, and James' hands slipped in an effort to comply.

When he was undressed, James stood there, feeling oddly vulnerable under Becker's gaze, with Becker still fully clothed. But Becker reached out and shoved him onto the bed, James falling on his back with an exhale. Becker climbed on after him, straddling James' thighs, and pulled his shirt off, tossing it to the ground unconcernedly.

Almost of their own accord, James' hands sought out the freshly bared skin of Becker's torso, caressing the firm muscles, but Becker immediately put a halt to that.

"No touching," Becker said as he pushed James' hands over his head, holding them to the bed in a strong grip. "If you don't listen I'll have to cuff you."

For some unfathomable reason, James' cock seemed to like the sound of that and the slow smile that spread across Becker's face made it evident that he hadn't failed to notice. James forced himself to remain still, however, because he refused to give Becker the satisfaction.

Becker claimed James' mouth in a fierce kiss, tongue thrusting inside in what could only be a promise as to what was coming later. James thought he might have moaned.

"Roll onto your stomach."

James stared at him for a moment and then did as he was told, cradling his head on his forearms. Both because he couldn't see Becker and because he had no idea of what Becker had in mind, what happened next came as a very big surprise.

Becker slapped him on the arse, open-handed, hard and stinging. A yelp rang out in the silence and James was appalled to realise that it had been him. "What the _fuck,_ you fucking bastard," he growled.

"Too slow," Becker breathed into his ear and then slapped him on the other cheek.

James muffled his cry in the pillow and then said, "And what could I possibly have done to earn that?"

"I liked the symmetry of it," Becker said and James could hear the smirk in his voice. "And watch your mouth."

"I'm not the one who had better be careful, you impertinent, insolent arsehole."

And there was another slap, just as hard as before. James spat out a curse and pressed his hips down against the mattress in an attempt to quell his embarrassing reaction.

"Why, sweetie, are you trying to provoke me on purpose? I think you're enjoying this," Becker purred.

"Fuck you," James said and Becker slapped him twice in quick succession.

"Not tonight," and then Becker's tongue was on him, his tongue and his teeth and…

"Oh, God, oh, fuck," was what James' brain wanted to say but it came out as more of a garbled jumble.

Becker had licked and nipped his way down James' spine in record time and then his wet mouth was sucking the reddened flesh of James' buttocks and it felt, well, really fucking amazing. It was soothing, in a way, if you could call something soothing that was making James' prick swell to almost uncomfortable hardness. His cock was caught between his body and the mattress and it wasn't the most pleasant of positions but he was having a very difficult time working up the desire to protest.

Now Becker was sliding his tongue between James' arse cheeks and tracing his tongue over James' hole, and James bit his lip to prevent himself from moaning. But when Becker's tongue slipped inside, there was no stopping it. He buried his face into the pillow but he was sure that Becker had heard him anyway. Becker worked him open with a mixture of skill, determination, and enthusiasm. Becker was always so damn enthusiastic. He loved sex and James was the lucky beneficiary.

Bending an elbow to support his weight, James started to slide his other hand down to take hold of his cock. Becker, however, had other ideas. Even (to be indelicate) with his face essentially jammed in James' arse, he knew exactly what James was trying to do.

"I didn't give you permission to touch yourself," he said sternly and slapped James' hand.

And that ridiculous whine had definitely come from James, though he wasn't quite certain whether it was a protest at the removal of Becker's tongue or a response to Becker thwarting him.

"Just for that, you don't get to have my tongue any more."

"You prick, I hope you know I'll get back at you for this."

Becker's soft laugh was followed by the unexpected smack of his hand against James' arse again. Twice.

James made a half-strangled sound and dug his fingers into the mattress to stop himself from reaching for his cock again.

"I told you to watch your mouth, James. Are you going to be good? Because I'd hate to have to not let you come at all."

James felt his body quiver with the effort of holding back exactly what he thought of Becker right now. He bit his tongue as an extra precaution.

"Good boy," Becker said, stroking his finger down the crack of James' arse, and James bit down harder. "I'm going to fuck you now," Becker said and fuck him for being able to keep his voice so damnably even and controlled. "You're going to be so tight around my cock, James, I want you to feel me stretching you open."

A mumbled string of half-moaned curses tumbled from James' lips, with maybe a "Christ, Hils," mixed in there as well. He felt the head of Becker's leaking cock dragging between his arse cheeks and realised that when Becker said 'now', he really meant 'now'.

"Two rules first," Becker said in the same clipped tone he used to talk to his men. "You don't come until I say you can, and if you even make a move for your cock you don't get to come at all. Understood?"

James closed his eyes. "Yes."

"Good. I thought about making you call me 'sir', but that might be pushing my luck too far."

"You sodding son of a bitch." He knew he was going to get spanked for it, but he didn't much care.

Becker didn't disappoint. "Your language is atrocious, James. And you pretend to be such a gentleman." Without any warning, Becker repositioned himself and shoved his cock into James' hole.

James let out a low groan at the feel of Becker's cock pushing inside him, stretching him. Becker wasn't gentle about it, didn't go slowly to ease him into it. He set a fast pace, in and out, his hands gripping James' hips and probably leaving bruises.

But James wanted it, wanted the harshness, the sensation that was almost but not quite pain, because it made everything else go away. The awful day, the dead girl, his problems with his son, everything disappeared until it was just Becker pounding into him, the slap of skin-on-skin and the unevenness of their breathing. Becker angled into him just right and found James' prostate, stroking the sensitive bundle of nerves each time he drove in.

He could tell when Becker was close, could feel the shift in his rhythm and then Becker's hands squeezed him impossibly harder as he came in James' arse. He dropped his forehead down between James' shoulder blades and James sucked in a breath, trying desperately to not grab for his cock, to not let himself come.

The pressure on James' back lifted as Becker scooted down and then… Oh, God, Becker was licking his own come out of James' arse and it was the sweetest kind of torture. James was shaking with the effort of complying with Becker's 'rules' and he stuffed the back of his hand into his mouth, biting his knuckles. He was one second away from begging, if Becker didn't -

"You can come now," Becker breathed next to James' ear and his hand found James' cock.

James almost sobbed in relief and came all over Becker's hand, needing only one swift stroke.

Becker tipped over onto his back and pulled James with him, his head resting in the centre of Becker's chest. They would have to clean up eventually but James decided that 'eventually' was definitely the operative word.

"I told you I knew what you needed," Becker said and James couldn't even begrudge him the smugness.

His arse was sore, though, in more ways than one. He really hoped he was going to be able to sit down tomorrow. James didn't exactly have the sort of job where sitting could be avoided terribly well, but then, he doubted standing or walking or anything at all, really, would be much easier. In all honesty, he wasn't that upset about it.

"You know," Becker said thoughtfully, "since you liked the spanking so much, I'm thinking that perhaps it might be a worthwhile investment to get a paddle or a strap or something."

"Oh, fuck you, Hils." James leaned up on his elbow, making sure he jabbed Becker's belly.

"It would be such a tragedy for you to admit you enjoyed yourself, wouldn't it? Well, darling, how about this?" Becker was ducking his head and looking at James through his girlishly long eyelashes, like a shy Victorian maiden or something. "If I'm very bad, and I know I am sometimes, shouldn't you be able to punish me?"

James' cock gave a pathetic little twitch. Now that had possibility.

_**End**_

_****_A/N: Just a brief FYI, I wrote a L/B ficlet to a prompt last week but as it was so short (500 words) and didn't really fit into the 'verse I was too lazy to bother posting it to this site. But just in case anyone is curious, it can be found on my LJ (linked on my profile page), it was called 'Return to Sender'.


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